


This is very midsummer madness

by Iamje



Series: A Kind of Magic [5]
Category: The Old Guard (Comics), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Joe is appreciative, M/M, cross dressing, i tried to add a plot to this and it escaped from me, was supposed to be crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26323456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iamje/pseuds/Iamje
Summary: When they need to sneak into a manor, Nicolò comes with the best plan. It involves a dress. It does not involve putting Andromache in it.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: A Kind of Magic [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1851835
Comments: 11
Kudos: 161





	This is very midsummer madness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gloriouswhisperstyphoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloriouswhisperstyphoon/gifts).



> This fic is entirely inspired by the “social distancing dress”. You can find the dress [Here](https://nsa40.casimages.com/img/2020/08/25/200825120347276675.jpg) as a reference, even though the one in the fic is not exactly the same, as you’ll see.
> 
> (title from Twelfth night, Shakespeare)  
> To Gloriouswhisperstyphoon, I really hope you like it!

It had been nearly three weeks since Yusuf had succeeded in finding himself in the Earl’s employment. Which meant it had been as many days since Nicolò had seen him last. A soft shyness washed over him as he sat in the carriage, leaning out the open door. When they came to a stop in front of the pathway leading to the mansion’s entrance, Andromache came to his help, offering a hand as support to extricate himself from the cabin. She was clad in coachman’s attire and her eyes were brightened by a smile. 

“I’ll park the carriage at the rear and try to get in through the kitchen, in case you need some help.” 

He nodded, “We’ll try not to,” then fiddled with one of his earrings, “Am I -?”

“Yes. You’re perfect.” 

  
  


Nicolò walked up to the entrance, trying to mind his steps. Even there, everything was already richly decorated and illuminated to such an extent that it almost felt like the sun hadn’t set yet. The pathway was laid out by a multitude of colorful shapes projected on the ground by lanterns, music and clamor became more and more audible as he advanced toward the main door. There, he presented his invite to a valet and another one accompanied him inside to announce his entrance. 

And what an entrance! Nicolò felt silly, as he had to turn sideways to crab walk into each room, the panniers on each side of his hips preventing him from going through doors any other way. But as he got to the ballroom, some kind of ease settled in him. He was able to walk into the room head held high. Everywhere he looked, the ladies' apparels were magnificent; a feast for the eyes. He couldn’t help but be distracted and marvel at the pretty dresses and rich colors that moved all around him.

He himself attracted several gazes, though he wasn’t necessarily aware of it. He was wearing a gorgeous silk dress woven with gold and pearls over the large structure of his hoop skirt. Ivory, ash and amber complimented his fresh complexion, his skin made even whiter than usual by the application of white lead. His waist was held tight in the bodice, the grey and golden stomacher cut rather low and revealing a taffeta mole in his cleavage. That particular choice may have been a little _risqué_ but... he had thought it looked good.

He was admiring a woman’s attire when someone stepped in front of him to introduce themself, “Henri-Robert-Maximilien Eschallart de La Boulaye. How may I call you, madam?”

“Nicole De Luca.” Nicolò curtsied and waved his fan in a soft deliberate motion.

“Your accent is delightful, where are you from?”

That man was the son of the Earl of Braine, their host. So, Nicolò played nice, making small talk even though something made him uncomfortable. The risk of being uncovered, probably. The thought vanished as his blue eyes met darker ones across the crowd. Yusuf. 

Nicolò suddenly felt very self-conscious, as he knew his lover could see him perfectly from his spot on the overhanging balcony. Wondering what he would think about his surprising appearance, he touched the flowers in his wig, fair hair sprinkled with white iris-scented powder. He tried not to look at him, tried to concentrate on his idle conversation, but his eyes kept coming to Yusuf as surely as magnets attract each other. His beloved was still staring. Nicolò felt his gaze raking over him, scorching with something he knew all too well to be able to be impervious to it. Soon enough, his skin was flustered, starting to match the red he had applied to enhance his cheekbones and the earl’s son was peeking shamelessly at his blooming cleavage. Nicolò excused himself.

Pretending to recognize one of the other guests, he walked away from Henri-Robert-Maximilien and made his way to where he had previously located the staircase. His heart was already beating faster. He climbed to the first floor, trying to look unhurried even though he very much wasn’t. It’s funny, how three weeks could feel like a very long time even though they lived hundreds of years. 

  
  


As he arrived on the balcony, a man gave Nicolò a look over and he smiled shyly in return. There were too many people here. His eyes flew over them and caught those dearly wanted at the end of the hallway. Way too many people... He pushed open a door on his side and stepped into what turned out to be a living room (petit salon?). He walked through it, picking up one of the lamps before going into the adjacent room, a small boudoir in pale blue colors that happened to be lit anyway. 

He put the lamp down on an ebony and ivory cabinet, then closed the golden fan in his hand to put it in his sleeve, minding the frothy venetian lace on the edge of his dress. He looked at the window. His reflection was of soft waving hair falling in loose ringlets about his fair neck and silk-covered shoulders. Behind him, a door closed and Nicolò turned around. 

Yusuf was staring again, leaning against the wooden panel. Nicolò couldn’t help but smile softly, a sort of modesty taking over him once more.

“Andy had a disagreement with some of the Earl’s men a few days ago”, he started to explain.

“Who’s idea was that?” Yusuf cut him short.

“It... may have been mine?” 

His lover was already coming closer, “You. Are. _Terrible_.” 

Fingers immediately brushed over delicate lace, both curious and reverent, “Oh, I need to paint you in that dress... You’re _beautiful_ ,” Yusuf said, in a way that made Nicolò shiver. 

Yusuf was still considering the dress, his thumb glossing over ivory jems and steel-colored patterns. “Moons woven in... golden rays?” Of course he had noticed the design. “...And _I’m_ supposed to be the romantic one?” He teased, smiling fondly as his eyes lit up with sheer adoration.

“I missed you,” Nicolò said. 

He reached out then, pulling his sweetheart closer. Lips met in a tender kiss as Nicolo's fingers sprawled on Yusuf's nape, keeping him where he wanted. Where he had wanted him for the past nineteen days. Yusuf's hands ran over silk, going up to his bodice, warm and deliberate, his kisses and touch starting to get more insistent, more heated by the minute. 

Nicolò’s breathing was shortened as he whispered "Joseph..." That was what he called him these days, but Yusuf kissed him some more, clearly not wanting to hear him. 

"You're going to smudge my makeup..." Nicolò added, then gasped as his lover's lips trailed along his neck in the most divine ways.

"Too late for that, my heart." 

Nicolò could feel the smile against his skin. He had to tug on Yusuf's hair to make him stop.

"You're supposed to show me where he’s keeping the letters."

"You mean your plan was not just to be beautiful to get me all bothered? Ow!" 

Nicolò had punched him in the ribs. Lovingly. Yusuf laughed and quietly asked for another kiss, which was gladly given to him. 

“Come on, the sooner it’s done, the sooner we can go home.”

  
  


A few minutes later, they stood in front of the Earl’s study on the second floor. Yusuf guarded the end of the hallway while Nicolò tugged a few tools from his wig and got to work.

None of the three locks posed a big challenge for him, yet, as he pulled open the door, it didn’t budge. 

“What’s wrong?” Yusuf asked at Nicolò’s perplexed look. 

“I don’t-” Nicky frowned and bent to examine the door more closely. “He didn’t...”

Nicolò started to work the locks again. It took a while and some patience, but he finally got the door open and signaled Yusuf they were good to go.

“What happened?” Yusuf asked.

“One of the locks was mounted backwards, but I didn't know which one. The Earl really doesn't want us near his study.”

They searched the room together, carefully putting everything back in its place afterwards. Yusuf looked through the desk and bookshelves while Nicolò worked on a chest he had found inside a cabinet. 

“Got it!” Nicolò called softly, holding out the incriminating letters they were looking for out for Yusuf.

“Good. Then let’s get out of here,” Yusuf pocketed the papers while Nicolò carefully put everything back in its previous state. 

The hallway outside still sat empty. From downstairs the sounds of the party drifted up but nobody came near Yusuf where he stood guard while Nicolò locked everything up again.

“Mapporcap-” 

Yusuf tensed at Nicolò’s curse. “What?”

Nicolò came down the corridor to Yusuf, whispering, “Lockpick broke in the lock, we need to get out of here.”

“Scream,” was not the answer Nicolò expected.

“Wh-?”

Yusuf mouthed a silent _Sorry_ and shoved him aside, rushing to the nearest window. Nicolò screamed: when in doubt, always trust Yusuf. A bunch of men trampled up the stairs and immediately raced after the apparent intruder. 

“What’s happening here?” The Earl's son frowned. 

“Sir, someone tried to break into the study.” One of the men pointed at the window.

“Did you see who it was?” they asked Nicolò. Or, Nicole. 

“I- I don’t really...” he stammered, feigning shock.

“It was one of the house attendants, I saw him.”

“Deploy and catch him. Don’t disturb the festivities,” the Earl’s son took charge, giving his instructions before getting back to his witness, “You seem distressed, my dear.”

Nicolò was worried he wouldn’t be able to assist Yusuf if needed, not in that attire. That was precisely why Andromache was there as a backup, but he still had an uneasy feeling about it all. 

He gave the man a wobbly smile, “That was quite frightful... I only wanted some calm for my headache. I think I need some air...”

“Sure, come with me.”

As they got to the garden, Henri-Robert-Maximilien purposely brushed his arm several times, sending awfully bad shivers down Nicolò’s spine. 

“Do not worry my dear, there is no way he can get far without getting caught.”

“Are you sure you have enough men for that?” Nicolò innocently asked.

He was then rewarded with great details about how the security was upped after someone tried to break into the manor a few days prior. Someone being Andromache and himself. Of course, the man lied by greatly overstating the facts and people involved, but Nicolò nodded to most of his nonsense.

“I am infinitely reassured to know that you'll be taking part in the search,” Nicolò stated suddenly as the other man couldn’t help but place himself as the hero of his story. 

The suggestion had the desired effect, the nobleman left him to join the hunt soon after. Which freed Nicolò to look for Yusuf himself. On a hunch, he went back inside, the idea of going back to the boudoir in mind. He didn’t even leave the ground floor though, before he was yanked inside a door, got miserably caught in the doorway almost bouncing off the paniers, then finally entered the room by himself, dignity somewhat bruised. 

“We’ve got to get you out of here,” Nicolò stated.

“Got a plan?”

Nicolò smiled.

  
  


Nicolò made his way rather slowly through the ballroom, when Henri-Robert-Maximilien came to meet him again. 

“Are you okay?” the nobleman asked, honest worry in his eyes.

“I uh... seem to have hurt my ankle,” Nicolò smiled apologetically then gasped as lips surprised him by brushing over said ankle. 

“That seems... painful indeed. Let me help you to your carriage.”

“I’ll be fine. I’d rather know you searching for that... awful man.” 

The very same man that was carefully concealed under the paniers of his dress and seemed to have a blast, if the lips on Nicolò’s skin were any indication. 

“If that is your wish, then... Can I hope to see you again soon?” the Earl’s son inquired.

“As soon as I get another invite,” Nicolò nodded; It wasn’t a lie if he wasn't actually gonna get an invite.

He then scooted out of the manor, as fast as his bulky dress and its secret occupant allowed him to be. Once at the carriage, Andromache met him with an eyebrow raise, the corner of her mouth slightly raised.

“Trouble?”

“Not too much. Can you help me get Joseph out, though?”

“We just have to unknot the paniers’ ties.”

“ **NO!** ” A sudden and vibrant shout arose from under the dress and a hand gripped Nicolò’s calf.

“He wants to sketch me in it.” Nicolò offered a small smile with the explanation.

Andromache had an ‘ _Of course he does’_ look on her face as she asked, “How did you get him under it in the first place?”

“Well, Yusuf is pretty nimble and-”

“Actually, I don’t need to know.” She paused, before adding “Get on the foot stool, I’ll lift the paniers.”

  
  


Nicolò really regretted the dress when he realized he wouldn’t be able to savour the drive home with his dearest, what with being half balanced out the door. When Andrea finally dropped them both at their current home (a rather nice safehouse, small but cozy) and bid them goodnight, they didn’t ask any question, fully aware that she was giving them space. 

Yusuf kept Nicolò’s hand in his after helping him get out, his eyes brightened by a joyful glow that Nicolò loved above all. Fingers kept playing with the soft fabric of the dress, smile meeting smile as they hastened through the front garden.

“Help me get rid of these shoes,” Nicolò asked, and his lover obliged, happily kneeling in the grass for him, playfully kissing a foot before releasing his leg.

Shoes were forgotten as soon as Nicolò put his arms around Yusuf when he got up, kissing him deeply then dragging him toward the house. They parted only for Nicolò to go through the door, sideways.

“Let me sketch you real quick, my heart,” Yusuf went in search of his drawing material while Nicolò set sail to their shared room and lit it up as much as he could.

Yusuf came back with his charcoals and pencils and set them up carefully, his eyes jerking up regularly to look at his lover. Nicolò could see his fingers twitch lightly, as if Yusuf was physically itching to draw him. He stayed standing, while graphite started to move on paper, across from him. He loved seeing Yusuf draw, reading this particular kind of determination in his eyes as he tried to concentrate, feeling the pure passion he put in his art. At first, it had been a chore to model for him, but now, Nicolò appreciated it. It was hypnotic to watch in any case, and meeting his beloved's gaze or earning a smile were rewards of their own. 

Time stretched for a while, Nicolò coming back from his almost meditative state when the charcoal was put down. Yusuf answered his questioning look with a subtle nod. Nicolò stretched a little then and got rid of his wig while his paramour quickly tidied up his equipment. He was dampening a cloth in a basin when Yusuf came back to him. 

“Sorry for the wait,” Yusuf said, fingers feeling the silk laid upon his lover as if he couldn’t help it. 

Lips met softly, before Yusuf took the cloth from Nicolò’s hands. Very diligently, he proceeded to apply it to his face and neck, swiping gently as to get rid of most of the make up, cleaning it in the basin now and then.

“Come on, get me out of this thing...” Nicolò pleaded softly after a few minutes of these careful ministration. 

Yusuf smiled, putting down the cloth before he kissed Nicolò. He lifted the dress up first, his hands slow and reverent, touching everywhere they could. He then untied the paniers, unhurried, one side after the other, nimble fingers working the knots and lips asking or giving soft kisses as punctuation to his work. Once the whole structure was set down, Nicolò moved to the bed, happy to finally be able to sit properly, even happier to relax under his lover’s care. 

Fingers lingered on Nicolò’s skin as Yusuf moved the skirt down his legs. He took his time, repeating the process for the multiple layers of soft petticoats hiding underneath. The last one had him humming in appreciation, pretty silk decorated with ribbons and lace that he couldn’t help but trace along. Then, Yusuf started to untie Nicolò’s bodice, patient, the same sort of awe still lightening his eyes, warming Nicolò’s heart with a deep tenderness. It took some time and more kisses before Yusuf was able to open the corset fully.

When Nicolò finally felt somewhat freed, the bodice still hanging from his shoulders like the most precious jacket he had ever worn, he leaned down, gently pulling his beloved to him. His hand cupped Yusuf’s nape, lovingly caressing the hair curling at its base while he kissed him. It was his turn to touch, now. He tugged impatiently at Yusuf’s waistcoat when a button dared resist him, earning him a soft laugh and more kisses. Yusuf had to get rid of it -and allow Nicolò’s hands to reach him more properly- before he could get his lover to take the bodice off his shoulders. It was scattered beside them with the rest of the discarded attire. Then, the chemise was cast aside too, revealing Nicolò’s skin as he leaned back again on the bed. There, sprawled naked amongst silk and lace, gold and pearls, Nicolò saw _it_ in Yusuf’s eyes.

“...you want to draw me again, don’t you?” 

His lover answered with an apologetic smile, fingers fidgeting on venitian lace. Nicolò kissed him softly, before he let him go. He saw Yusuf disappear through the door. Sometimes, plans backfire... 

When Yusuf came back this time, it was with his colours. He was so obviously thrilled as he settled his station that Nicolò couldn’t help but smile fondly at the sight. Nicolò played with the silk and lace scattered all around him to highlight some of it for his beloved artist, then he let himself relax, sprawling lasciviously, a slight smirk tugging at his lips at the several unprofessional glances he had already drawn out of Yusuf.

As interesting as the rest of the night would surely be, he didn’t mind having to gaze some more upon Yusuf’s quiet worship for now.

**Author's Note:**

> All my thanks to Beth for the help in what i hope is a somewhat accurate depiction of historic clothes, and to @Kat2107 for the editing !
> 
> Tell me what you thought about the fic! Comments feed me! ♥  
> (also: I'm... pondering on maybe making a chapter two *cof* for the smut *cof*)


End file.
